


When I look at you

by MartyMiaMatt



Series: Walking the road that leads to you [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: "subtly" implied possible Dom/sub undertones, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Jealousy, Kisses, Longing, M/M, Mild Power Play, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Pining, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Summer Heat, Teenage characters, after volleyball practice, all of the pining no really you have no idea, beginning of relationship, everything is probably a metaphor for sex, new-relationship insecurities, serious overuse of Yamaguchi calling Tsukishima 'Tsukki', taking volleyball too seriously because it's Haikyuu, who am I kidding I am not subtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyMiaMatt/pseuds/MartyMiaMatt
Summary: Kei wants, wants, wants.These days, wanting is all he does, whenever Tadashi is close to him.





	When I look at you

**Author's Note:**

> I drew from a lot of personal feelings to write this piece... posting it makes me feel a little naked, as if I'm putting out a private love letter for everyone to see.  
> I cared a lot about this story, though, and for once I ended up being quite pleased with the results.  
> I hope you can enjoy it as well.
> 
> As usual, please let me know if there are any mistakes in the language or in the grammar, or if there's anything else I should correct!

“Hey, Yamaguchi, are you ready?”

Yamaguchi nods and waves his right arm, raising his thumb in the air. He’s holding the ball with his other arm, clutching it against his chest.

“Yes, Tsukki!”

Tsukishima squints in the shimmering sunlight to take a better look at him. He takes a step back, putting one foot behind the other to better distribute his weight.

His friend pushes a lock of hair away from his forehead. His face molds into that focused expression that Kei knows so well, almost knows it better than he knows his own reflection.

Thin brows frowning lightly, the tip of a pink tongue peeking from the left corner of Tadashi’s mouth as he raises the ball with one hand.

 

They’re in the courtyard outside the school gym. It’s early in the afternoon, a stifling mid-June Tuesday. The sky above them is a clear light blue; no clouds to shield them from the sun. All around them, the expanse of grass under their feet is dry and yellowed.

Kei looks at Tadashi. His whole body sways and adjusts, preparing for impact.

Tadashi is going to toss at him, and Kei is going to receive it, because that’s what he always does.

He won’t fail Tadashi.

Not even now, not here, while it’s just the two of them tossing the ball back and forth in a simple round of practice before they meet with the rest of the team.

Tadashi will toss and Tsukishima won’t let the ball touch the ground. Not for himself; not to put on a show or to impress anyone. But because Tadashi asked for his help to work on improving the aim and the strength in his tosses, and he can’t let Tadashi down.

That’s the one mistake Kei does not allow himself to make.

 

The heated summer air vibrates.

Yamaguchi makes a small sound like a hum in the back of his throat; it’s something he does sometimes, probably without noticing, when he’s about to toss.

The ball rises into the air with a soft bow. It’s less forceful than it could have been, but it’s a clean hit.

Kei holds his breath.

He bolts. Quick. Aggressive. With the same seriousness he would put into it if he were standing on the court of an international tournament.

He catches the ball, quite easily, yes, but that’s not what matters.

What matters is that he immediately spikes it back up with full force, with no pause, only giving a quick shout of “Yamaguchi!” as a warning.

This is what Tadashi asked of him, he thinks. To take the training as seriously as if they were truly playing to win, the both of them; as if Tadashi weren’t his teammate and his friend, but instead an actual opponent that needs to be defeated with all of Kei’s strength and skill.

He hopes he’s doing this right.

 

Fast, sharp, the ball flies back towards Tadashi.

When Tadashi’s pale arms, extended into the stifling air, catch it with only the faintest moment of hesitation, Kei has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back a big smile.

It’s Yamaguchi who grins openly, rotating the ball with both hands like a hard-won trophy.

“Thanks, Tsukki!” he says, from across the withered lawn.

“The last one was good,” Tsukishima praises, more dryly than how he really means it.

He rubs his damp forehead with the back of his forearm. This weather is really unbearable. “A couple more?”

Tadashi nods again and gets back into position.

Around them, a faint breeze whispers through the tree branches, barely strong enough to sway them imperceptibly. The sun is blazing, blinding. There seem to be no birds at this hour of the day. No sounds, except for their heavy breaths and faint groans and brief exchanges of words.

They keep playing.

 

 

“Break?”

It’s Kei who suggests it first. When he checks the time on his phone, he finds that about forty-five minutes have passed since they started.

He turns to Tadashi, who is grabbing the collar of his own shirt and weakly pulling at the hem in an attempt to cool down.

“Yeah, good idea,” Tadashi murmurs, though he seemed ready to keep going. He lays the ball on the ground and he and Kei walk side by side, in silence, towards the relative solace of the vending machines.

 

Kei leans with his back against the side of one of the machines. He takes a few generous sips from his water bottle, then he puts it down and starts stretching his arms. Meanwhile, Tadashi huffs and mutters something about the heat.

Kei distractedly watches as the other boy leans down to pick up his bag from the spot on the ground where they left their stuff earlier. Tadashi rummages around, searching for his wallet, then starts inserting coins in the slot, now humming happily to himself.

Kei stares intently at this sequence of small, mundane actions, and says nothing.

He keeps looking at Tadashi.

Looking, _looking –_ everyone seems to believe that it’s Tadashi who is always looking adoringly at Kei, the one who follows him around with a soft smile and words of praise and support. And that’s true, Kei supposes.

The thing other people don’t seem to notice is that it’s not like Kei ever loses sight of Tadashi, either.

Kei likes the fact that, at all times, all he has to do is turn his head around and he’ll immediately know where Yamaguchi is. By his side, or not very far away.

And he likes looking at Tadashi, though he doesn’t say it. It’s familiar. Reassuring. It relaxes him.

 

“Hey, Tsukki, do you want anything?”

Tsukishima jumps a little, as if he’s been caught red-handed doing something that he isn’t supposed to.

His gaze meets Tadashi’s brown eyes.

“Uhm, no. I have water,” he mutters.

“Oh, ok.”

Tadashi is holding a can of iced tea close to his mouth. His thin lips are slightly parted; there’s sweat trickling down his forehead and his freckled cheeks, down his slender neck and into the collar of his light yellow t-shirt.

They’re not wearing their proper practice attire yet; they’ll change into it later when the rest of the team arrives. Kei likes the contrast of the fabric against Yamaguchi’s pale skin, he likes how the sunlight brings out even more freckles, and – he’s staring at his best friend again.

His best friend. His _only_ real friend, before he came to Karasuno.

His… _boyfriend,_ too, now, since almost two months. This last one, though, is a definition Kei hasn’t yet grown accustomed to. Sometimes he still can’t wrap his head around the idea.

_Boyfriend. Yamaguchi is his boyfriend._

They have been friends for so many years before; Yamaguchi’s presence at his side feels so completely natural, like an extension of his own existence.

Yamaguchi just… _is,_ to him. Kei couldn’t contemplate a version of his reality where Tadashi is not there.

Their relationship hasn’t changed very much, he thinks; they haven’t told the rest of the team yet, because Kei doesn’t think there’s much to be said anyway. If they know, it’s fine by him, but it’s really none of their business.

Still, being a… a couple, it’s something that Kei isn’t used to.

He doesn’t know how to be romantic, or even if Yamaguchi expects him to be. He isn’t sure about what counts as a date, or whether they should give importance to things like anniversaries and presents. Surprisingly, Tadashi is the one of the two who appears to be the least interested in these things, seemingly just content with meeting at one or the other’s place to study or to hang out after practice.

It’s a bit like before… only, now, sometimes they lie on the bed together, in a tangle of arms and legs, and all they do is kiss for hours without saying one word.

All of this is something Kei is still learning how to navigate, quietly and blindly fumbling around to test and stretch the new boundaries of what he and Yamaguchi can be together.

Sometimes, the whole idea still leaves him breathless and makes his head spin.

 

Tadashi sips his tea. Silently, he slides closer to Tsukishima in that small corner of shade.

Their shoulders bump against each other. Tadashi’s lips are glistening lightly, made glossy by the sugary beverage, and Kei follows the bobbing movement of his Adam’s apple as the liquid descends down his throat.

They’re closer than before. Then, the back of Yamaguchi’s right hand brushes against Kei’s left cheek.

He opens his mouth, a little startled, reflexively covering that hand with his own.

Tadashi blinks. “Hey, are you okay?”

Tsukishima licks his lips. They feel very dry. “Mh? … Yes, just thinking.”

Tadashi smiles and he keeps staring into Kei’s eyes with the darkness of his own.

“Tsukki… was I really good before?” Tadashi then asks, in a whisper.

His voice is expectant, hesitant.

“Yes” Kei answers immediately.

He means it, fully. He wishes he could make Tadashi understand, convey all his pride and all his praise, but his voice comes out breathless.

He grips Yamaguchi’s hand tighter, presses his lips to the other’s scraped knuckles. “You were very good.”

A trembling kiss there; and another, and another.

He _feels_ it as Yamaguchi holds his breath, then leans closer to Kei.

“Thank you, Tsukki. I feel better because… _you’re_ teaching me…”

The words make Kei feel warm in his belly, as if there’s a hook attached there, and it’s being pulled by an invisible force.

He _wants_ Yamaguchi so much, right now, that it makes his knees weak.

 

Tadashi’s arm slide around his waist and pulls him closer.

(His waist, not his neck, because Tadashi isn’t that small, but Kei is so much taller than him and than anyone else they know. Tadashi is the only one who doesn’t make fun of him for that.)

The half-finished can falls to the floor, forgotten.

Kei curves his back and puts his hands on Yamaguchi’s shoulders, adapting to him.

Yamaguchi’s fingers trace the line of his jaw, caressing the shell of Kei’s ears under the temples of his glasses. His hands travel to Tsukishima’s hair and dive into sand-blond strands.

Tadashi kisses him, hard. His lips are soft and dry. His cheeks feel smooth under Kei’s fingers when he cups his face, kissing him back just as deeply.

Tadashi’s body moves against him. In a flash of thought, Kei thinks that he wants to take off the clothes that are hindering them, and his glasses, and he wants to _feel_ the entirety of Yamaguchi’s skin against his body.

They kiss and they kiss and they kiss again, and Kei is dizzy.

Tadashi’s short nails scratch the flesh of Kei’s forearms. Without meaning to, Kei presses him against the vending machine, and Tadashi’s back impacts with the hard surface with a low _thud._

Tadashi moans. Kei’s face grows hotter and hotter.

 

Panting, Tsukishima reluctantly pulls back. He needs to pause, or he’s just going to lose every shred of control that he still has and he can’t, as much as he would like to. This is not the right time, the right place.

One of his hands is hovering over Tadashi’s collarbone, resting almost on his throat. Not grasping or anything, it’s just – _there._ The skin on Tadashi’s neck feels very warm, the pulse beats faintly under Kei’s  fingertips.

With his back flat against the buzzing glass panel of the vending machine, Tadashi looks up at him. His eyes are big, shadowed by black lashes. His chest moves quickly up and down under the yellow shirt.

“Tsukki…” Tadashi whispers his name again, this time almost a plea.

Kei wants, wants, _wants._ These days, he feels as if _wanting_ is all he does, whenever Tadashi is close to him.

 

He steps close again, bowing his head. His lips brush Tadashi’s forehead. He reaches for the other’s hands and holds them both with his own, interlacing their fingers.

Yamaguchi's eyes are so dark now. Kei loves it. He knows those eyes and he loves them. Loves _Tadashi,_ though saying _that_ feels impossible.

He forces a deep breath out of his chest and his throat.

“Not now,” he says instead. “Later.” A promise.

Tadashi licks his bottom lip and absentmindedly rubs his neck in the spot where Tsukishima touched him. It’s a delicate gesture, another he probably isn’t aware that he’s doing; another that Kei notices instead.

It makes Kei feel wanted _back,_ the knowledge that Yamaguchi _needs_ him too – at least a little bit.

Tadashi stands on his tiptoes and leaves another small kiss on his lips.

“Thank you, Tsukki. You’re so good to me,” he says in his ear.

In the humid, stifling heat, Tsukishima still shivers.

 

 

“The others should be here soon,” he says, trying to speak in a casual tone, after a cough that doesn’t sound as natural as he would like.

He glances around, then at his cell phone, as if he’s expecting their teammates to suddenly materialize out of thin air. It doesn’t happen, though, and they’re still alone.

Without saying another word, they sit down in silence, side by side, with their legs crossed.

Yamaguchi seems to have sensed that he thinks it’s best to calm down, so he pulls out his phone as well, and starts scrolling with his index.

Kei admires how good Tadashi is at going back to pretending that nothing’s happened. If it weren’t for the subtle blush on his face and on the back of his neck, one could almost be deceived.

Yamaguchi giggles softly, a throaty noise, at the sight of something that is clearly funny or cute. Kei can’t see what it is from his position, inches away. He angles his neck and squints a little, trying not to get caught as he peeks.

Tadashi turns to him and puts the phone in front of him, showing him a picture of five small black kittens. He beams and tells him that Nishinoya-senpai sent it to him earlier.

Tsukishima scoots closer. He puts an arm around Yamaguchi’s shoulders, then reaches for his hand to hold.

 

He’s protective, he knows he is. He tries his best to keep it all in, he doesn’t want to burden Yamaguchi; but deep inside, he feels possessive. It’s a part of him that he never really expected, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

The truth is that even when they were 'just' friends, he never liked to think about the idea that Yamaguchi could one day get tired of him and leave him. Now that they’re… _dating,_ it’s as if a whole world of new, unpredicted fears has opened to him. Like the fact that if _he_ likes kissing Yamaguchi, there are other people who might like it too; and someday, maybe, Tadashi might prefer someone else.

Tadashi is better at making friends than he is, too. He’s kinder, more open, easier to approach. People tend to like him better.

Kei is not truly _jealous,_ not of Nishinoya or anyone else in the team. They’re friendly to Yamaguchi, and he’s sure they mean no harm. Yamaguchi isn’t _his,_ after all; he’s his own person, he’s allowed to have other friends.

It’s just that… well, there is a small voice in the back of his brain that softly growls that no one else can hold Yamaguchi’s hand and kiss him like Kei does. That’s _his_ prerogative. That part of Yamaguchi, _that’s_ something that is only his.

 

Tadashi shows him other pictures, funny stuff that he finds on his Facebook. He chatters about his plans for the weekend, how he doesn’t want to go for a two-day visit to his grandparents’ with his family.

Kei listens to him. His fingers keep rubbing circles into the back of Tadashi’s hand.

The air is still hot, and Kei’s lungs are filled with the urge to kiss Tadashi again.

So many people say that Tsukishima doesn’t listen to others; sometimes, they even go so far as to tell him so directly to his face. But it’s not the whole truth.

Tsukishima has no patience for people who don’t interest him or don’t respect him, and he doesn’t make an effort to hide it. The vast majority of people that he meets simply happen to fall into either one of those categories.  

There is one person he always _listens_ to: Yamaguchi.

He always likes what Yamaguchi has to say; he’s always funny, or interesting, or right when Kei is wrong. Tsukishima loves hearing his voice, even when he abruptly tells him to shut up after a bad pun or a comment that makes him feel embarrassed. He does that just to keep up his usual cold façade, though, lately, and he knows that Tadashi usually can distinguish between the pretense and his occasional actual anger.

Sometimes, all it takes is the smallest of gestures - a softly whispered _“Tsukki”,_ the faintest brush of Tadashi’s hand against his wrist – and Kei knows what Tadashi is thinking before he even says it.

 

Kei doesn’t _say_ how he feels very easily. Most of the time, he tries to hide it behind glasses and stern looks and sarcastic comments; but sometimes, the feelings he has for Yamaguchi are so strong that they seem completely overwhelming.

That’s part of why he can’t _say_ it, really. Words would not be enough to explain, and Tadashi wouldn’t understand – he would think that _Tsukki_ is making fun of him, maybe.

Inside his mind, though, Kei knows the truth.

Kei has never loved anyone so much. It’s so quiet and powerful and so consuming; it creeps up on him. It devours him.

It’s terrifying.

 

Yamaguchi smiles at him. Flushed cheeks, tousled hair, and a warm, tired smile.

It’s Kei’s favorite sight.

He looks at the concrete floor beneath their feet before he speaks:

“After practice, do you… do you wanna come to my place?”

Tsukishima swallows. His throat is dry.

He nods, a little stiffly.

“Yes. Sure.”

They hold hands for a little while longer, small touches lingering on each other’s fingertips.

Tadashi smiles again, with shining eyes.

“Ok, Tsukki!”

Kei feels that pull inside his stomach again.

They can… continue _… this._ Later, when they’re alone.

Kei can’t wait.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I deliberately decided to leave the details of their budding relationship ambiguous. Have they already said "I love you" to each other? Have they slept together? You decide.
> 
> Boring title is boring.


End file.
